salt of the earth

6/23/2004 Sanya, Tokyo. I shouldn’t be here. I really shouldn’t. Maybe the name doesn’t mean anything to you, but most Japanese would recognize it. I really didn’t realize where the hotel was located when I made the reservation. An American scholar (Edward Fowler) wrote a book about this place a few years ago called ‘Sanya Blues’, because it was such a notorious place. This is where of Tokyo’s day-laborers ‘live’, either on the street or in ‘silkworm shelves’ meaning crowded bunks. It’s recently been trying to reinvent itself as a place for backpackers to stay, since these flophouses are CHEAP, but the homeless are still here, and the poverty is still wafting in the air. In fact, the place where I’m staying is only 2 blocks away from the “Iroha” shopping arcade where Fowler almost got into a fist fight with some off duty workers (for taking pictures. don’t expect any photos from me). The ‘bars’ in the area aren’t called ‘snack’ or ‘bar’ (in Japanese that is); they’re labeled differently than drinking establishments elsewhere in Tokyo. Here, they’re called 大衆酒場 basically meaning an alcohol dispensing place for the ‘masses’. That includes me, for now.